


Shame

by Solemini (CyanHorne)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Attempted Sexual Assault, Canon-Typical Violence, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Dissociation, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Victim Blaming, Light Angst, Past Sexual Assault, Pre-Episode 68
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 09:49:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8097535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyanHorne/pseuds/Solemini
Summary: “I must say, Percival, you’ve filled out nicely since the last time we…played.”Percy grunts, teeth clenched and jaw locked. He wants to scream, to lash out. To grab the gun lying just out of reach and fight back.He can do none of these things, because he can’t move. Ripley saw to that.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Not gonna lie, this exists mostly because I was surprised it didn’t already. Plus, it’s liable to get joss’ed to hell within the next few weeks, so I figured I might as well get ‘er out there while I could. 
> 
> In case you missed it in the tags: **Trigger Warning** for attempted sexual assault, discussion of past torture including implied rape, some internalized victim-blaming, and canon-typical violence.

“I must say, Percival, you’ve filled out nicely since the last time we…played.”

Percy grunts, teeth clenched and jaw locked. He wants to scream, to lash out. To grab the gun lying just out of reach and fight back.

He can do none of these things, because he can’t move. Ripley saw to that.

 

 

Here are the facts: Anna Ripley has an arsenal, over two-dozen firearms both rudimentary and refined built over the course of two years. She also has goals, which scattered the weapons across Ozanthia and Tal’dorei but could also reunite them for a common cause. Like dragons.

And he, Percival, has a conscience that outweighs his fears.

They’d made a deal. An alliance, to bring down the green and red dragons.

There are contingencies, of course. Plans for after, for securing Whisper and destroying the guns and taking back Cabal’s Ruin. No doubt Anna has plots of her own, for a double-cross or an early escape or…

Or, apparently, for this: an empty workshop, a late night, a Hold Person spell, and his friends none the wiser, no doubt asleep in their cabins on the upper decks.

If he could swear – which he can’t – Percy would curse himself for letting his guard down, for thinking he could be safe while _she_ was nearby, just because the ship is so small and his friends are so close. His Earring of Whisper lies on the desk, a bare inch from his paralyzed hands. He’d been leaning when she spell hit, so even though Anna is so much smaller than she appears in his dreams, she still seems to loom when she curls into his spine

Arms around him, his shirt undone, her hands – no, _hand_ , hand and claw – roam freely. Percy can’t tell which is worse: the metal on one side, unnaturally body-warm as it scrapes his chest, or the _hand_ , that awful, familiar hand creeping low past his waistline, pushing through buttons and smallclothes to reach bare skin.

“You used to be so scrawny,” she chuckles, her breath bitter against his throat. Sharp nails trace an old, deep burn scar at his hip. “Such a cute boy, full of clever ideas and pretty screams. But now…”

She grasps at his crotch, finding the length already half-hard. It’s nerves and fear and stress, not arousal, yet he’s hyper-aware enough to feel her smile.

“Now you’re a man. And such a _fine_ specimen.”

Shame course through him, becoming a groan that grows only more pained as she rakes the claw down his stomach. Percy closes his eyes – the only movement Hold Person will allow – and tries to cast his mind to another time and place. Anything and anywhere but this.

Ripley draws him out, teasing with only the tips of her fingers and leaving him to hang and harden in the cool air. Her arms pull tight, grasping with both hand and claw. Pressed flushed against his back, she moves her breath from his throat to his ear.

“I made this, you know. I made you a man.” Her fingers wrap around his cock as the claw digs into his side. Draws blood. “You’re alive because I wanted to keep you, to take you apart and make you strong. And you are strong, Percival. Stronger than you could ever become on your own.

“I bet you’ll break even prettier the second time.”

There’s a _crack_ at the door like lightning and, just as fast, Ripley’s touch is gone. She flings herself backwards as a crackling arrow passes between them, right where her head had been a second before. The Hold Person spell shatters. Percy’s body jerks Then his knees give out and he sinks to the floor, fumbling to conceal his shame.

In storms Vex’ahlia, her gray-brown eyes ablaze as she draws a second arrow across Fenthras’s limb. This one catches Ripley in the shoulder, driving her further back with a yell. Vex slams her next, fierce as the bear she raised, and pins her to the wall with the great black bow.

“You evil, conniving _hag_.”

Pinned as she is, there isn’t much room for Ripley to raise her hand in defeat, but she does so anyway. “Now now, ranger. Let’s not be rash. Percival and I were simply catching up on old…”

Vex hits her, a solid uppercut to the stomach and ribs that knocks the air from Ripley’s lungs. Quick as a whip, she draws a third arrow from the quiver. Its iron point, she presses to Ripley’s throat.

“Give me one good reason.”

“You still want the guns, don’t you?” Ripley widens her mad smirk, her teeth bloodstained from a bitten cheek. “Kill me now and you’ll never find them all.”

Percy looks up from the floor. He’s been trying to stand, but his muscles are still shaking from the wasted fight against Hold Person. “Vex.”

She looks from Ripley to him and back, snarling with all the protective ferocity of a moment bear. There’s a moment, a long moment, when he almost thinks she won’t listen. There’s a moment, not quite as long, when he almost doesn’t want her to.

Growling, Vex rips the second arrow out of Anna’s wound. It sprays them both with blood and earns another pained yell. Then she pulls Fenthras away and throws Ripley at the workshop door.

“Get out.”

Anna stumbles the first steps, regains her balance, and straightens into pseudo-noble poise. Claw pressed to her weeping wound, she strides from the workshop as though she owns it, only pausing at the door to glance back at Percy – still kneeling, still disheveled – and _chuckle_ under her breath.

Vex raises her bow, but Ripley is gone before she can notch a shot. She stands ready until they’re sure the doctor is long gone, then drops both bow and bloodied arrow to rush to Percy’s side.

“Oh my _stars_ , Percy. Are you—?”

She stops in mid-thought, worrying her bottom lip as she takes a knee. Percy can only imagine how he looks to her, flushed and shaking with all his buttons undone, holding closed his shirt and only barely covered enough to be decent. Her eyes rake over him. She raises her hands.

“Do you need healing?”

Percy shakes his head. “I’m fine.”

Vex frowns. “Are you?”

He isn’t really. He’s ashamed. Of his appearance, his own weakness, that she had to _save_ him like some mewling damsel. The blush burns worse than the cuts, so he turns from her and hurriedly re-buttons his shirt.

“It’s not important.”

“Not import…darling.” Vex reaches again, a signal and a silent search for permission. When he doesn’t pull away, she grips his shoulders. “That _hag_ intended to **rape you**.”

“…It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Her jaw drops. Percy doesn’t have to look up to hear the unspoken questions: When? How? _Why didn’t he tell them?_

The truth is, he hadn’t remembered. He still barely can; Ripley’s torture had been _very_ creative. There’d been burning and branding, drowning and acid, needles and knives; the standard tools. But there’d also been potions, poisons, drugs and spells, controlled hallucinations and illusions with pain, tricks that warped reality and lost time. He has so many memories that can’t be real.

This, though. The false kindness, the whispered taunts. Anna taking as she pleased. His body responding in kind. Humiliation. Shame.

This, he now knows, was all too real.

He can’t look at Vex, can’t bear to see her pity or judgement or whatever else. He tries to pull away. She drags him back into a hug and holds tight, cradling his head to her shoulder.

“I’m going to kill her,” she whispers. “I’ll gut that evil witch alive.”

War rages in Percy’s heart, shame and guilt and self-loathing against a sudden surge of gratitude and relief. He shouldn’t need her to do this. He can fight his own battles, carry his own burdens. Ripley is his burden, this is all his responsibility for letting her live and making deal after deal. He can’t drag Vex down into that same pit of rage.

And yet…it’s also been such a long time since he last felt as safe as he does now, in her arms.

Through all that, it’s the practicality that at last finds a voice. “We still need her. The plan…”

“To hell with the plan!” Vex tightens her hold. “To hell and hells with all of this, it’s not worth it.”

He returns her embrace, the arms at her waist oddly steady now that she’s the one shaking with rage. There are lots of things he could say, explanations he could offer, rationality and reason and pleas to side with the greater good. He doesn’t though, because she’s already heard it all. She knows.

Eventually, the shaking stops. Vex shifts, not quite pulling them apart, and presses her forehead to his.

“Until this is over,” she says. “You don’t go anywhere alone. Understand? Take me or Keyleth or Trinket, Grog…anyone. Just.” She takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Do _not_ give that witch another chance.”

“All right.”

“And the _second_ this is over…” She growls, eyes alight with stormy thunder.  “I want her head on a pike.”

That, at last, makes Percy smile. “Yes, dear.”

Her expression settles back to something resembling peace, though the storm remains beneath the surface. She moves as though to place a kiss on his brow, but thinks better and stops. Percy leans to meet her. The touch of her lips is soft and warm and nothing like what came before.

When they finally get around to picking themselves off the floor, she gives him a moment’s peace to put himself back in order, then makes to lead him back to the safety of the upper decks. He catches her softly by the arm. “Vex?”

She glances back, head cocked. Percy squeezes her hand.

“Don’t tell the others. Please.”

Her expression crumbles, the storm again bleeding through, this time with more distress than fury. He can read the conflict in her eyes, her respect for his wishes warring with the need to warn their friends and – this one hurts – the guilt that she might ever consider breaking his trust.

It lasts for only a second. She squeezes back with sad eyes.

“If that’s what you want, darling.”

A secret, then. Mixed guilt and relief settle in Percy’s heart. Better, he thinks, to leave the past in the past for now. Maybe someday, in the future when there’s peace, there’ll be time to work things out another way.

For now, it’s enough to find strength in her promise and support in their joined hands. She leads him upstairs to the light, and friends, and safety, leaving the cold touch of clawed hands and old shame behind.

 


End file.
